


i don’t know what i thought i’d get (but i know i didn’t get it)

by cascountsdeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sam and Eileen crumbs here and there, idk i cant tag, they’re stupid and in love ok, this sounds so dark it’s really not That dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascountsdeansfreckles/pseuds/cascountsdeansfreckles
Summary: Benny died over a year ago. Dean is crawling his way back to some semblance of normalcy. And then Castiel has to bump into him, literally, and fuck it all up.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester (past), Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	i don’t know what i thought i’d get (but i know i didn’t get it)

**Author's Note:**

> so just a couple of trigger tags here, dean talks about past issues with alcoholism and depression. there are mentions of benny, who was married to dean but passed away about a year before our story begins. there are also a few references and accusations of drug abuse.
> 
> now that THAT is out of the way, this story really isn’t as dark as it sounds. i’m looking for betas though!! if you’re interested, please dm me @clockworkcas on twitter :)
> 
> also this is kinda a cheater fic HEL ?!? enjoy <3

Their mouths are slanted together, only a breath apart, but neither of them make the next move. Cas has a hand flat against Dean’s chest, but he doesn’t push him away. His other hand is bunched on his hip. Just as Dean’s brain catches up with the moment and he tries to press forward, Cas says his name quietly.

“Yes?” It’s more of a breath than a word. His hands skim along Castiel’s sides.

“Friends,” Cas whispers, an unwelcome reminder, but the word is a stark contrast to the tightening of the grip on his hip.

“We’re not friends,” Dean breathes. Castiel’s breath stutters.

“No?”

“No,” Dean tells him. “Friends don’t do this.” Cas shivers, and Dean stops moving his hands.

“Who does this?” He sounds genuinely curious. Dean presses the tiniest bit closer to him.

“Very, very close acquaintances.” He catches Cas’s laugh with a kiss, finally, finally slotting their lips together. “Tell me to stop,” he offers, breaking away for a moment. The second between him pulling back and Cas shaking his head feels like torture.

“Don’t stop.” 

The next few minutes are a blur. His hand comes up to cup Castiel’s jaw. He’s walking them backward. Cas lets out a small ‘oof’ when his back hits the wall. It starts off lazy, propped up against the wall without any reason to rush. Dean isn’t quite sure when it takes a turn, but in less than a second Cas switches gears from sweet to desperate. He rucks Dean’s shirt up and his hands are everywhere. Suddenly, Dean’s the one against the wall and—and then a phone rings, and it’s over.

The tension snaps. Cas stumbles away and presses a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. The phone continues to ring as they stare at each other. After a moment, Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s not ringing.

“‘s yours,” he says softly. Cas, still staring at him dazedly, doesn’t seem to understand. “Your phone, Cas,” he repeats. Cas shakes his head and digs in his pockets, finally pulling out his phone and staring at the screen.

“Mark,” he whispers. Dean rubs his face with his hand and turns away.

The phone stops ringing. He hears Cas utter a greeting. He really wants a drink.

“Hey, babe.” Castiel’s voice is a controlled calm, but he paces back and forth in front of Dean, dragging his hand through his hair roughly. “No, you’re not interrupting anything. We just got back from dinner. Me and..me and Dean. Yeah.” He pauses for a moment, and he meets Dean’s gaze.

There’s panic there, and guilt, and something else Dean doesn’t recognize.

“Really?” Cas says distractedly into the phone, still staring at Dean. “That’s awesome, baby.” Dean’s stomach churns. “Listen, I was actually about to hop in the shower. Can I call you back? ...Okay. Yep. I love you too, talk to you later.”

Cas hangs up the phone and tosses it on the bed, not taking his eyes off of Dean. His hair is messy; Dean did that. Dean’s hand pushed through the unruly black curls and Dean’s fingers untucked Castiel’s shirt. It’s too much. He turns on his heel and shoves his way out the door.

Cas doesn’t follow. 

—— 

two weeks earlier

Dean winces as somebody runs into his chair, knocking his arm out of the comfortable position he had finally found and causing another jolt of pain to spread up from his elbow to his shoulder. The man mutters an apology, not even glancing at him as he hurries after his companion, who hadn’t stopped to wait for him. Dean, with nothing better to do as he waits for the perpetually annoyed-looking nurse to call his name, watches with mild interest as the man dotes over the other guy’s bloody face.

“Ouch—Jesus. Just don’t touch it, Castiel,” he grumbles, pushing his hands away. The boy—Castiel—hovers over him anyways, a deep crease in his brow. Dean huffs, shifting in his seat--careful to avoid moving his arm--and rolling his eyes as Castiel brushes a hand through his unruly black hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says, frowning deeper when he brushes him off again. “Mark, please. Just let me—”

“Leave it alone,” Mark snaps loudly. Dean raises an unimpressed eyebrow right as Castiel glances around the emergency room, probably embarrassed. They make eye contact, and Castiel stares at back at him. Dean prides himself on not being bashful in the least, but the weight of Castiel’s shockingly blue gaze makes the back of his neck hot. The guy is staring at him, completely unashamed. He doesn’t look angry that Dean has clearly been eavesdropping, just curious. Dean rubs at his neck and looks down, unable to hold eye contact any longer.

Before he gets the guts to chance another look, Sam has dropped heavily into the chair next to him, a pile of paperwork in his hands.

“Dude, this is ridiculous. I’m telling you, you can patch me up at home--” Sam silences him with a look, already writing on the papers.

“This isn’t some cut, Dean. The thing is fucked,” Sam says without looking up. Dean huffs, glancing back over at Castiel again. He is handing a similar stack of papers to the woman at the front desk and smiling kindly at her. Dean shifts again, tracking Castiel’s path back to his seat. Sam taps the pen against the papers before turning the page. Dean ignores him, scowling as Castiel says something to Mark and gets completely ignored. What a jackass. “Dean, hello?” Sam stabs the pen into his good arm to get his attention.

“Ow--what the hell, Sammy?” Dean rips his attention away from Castiel’s broody companion, glaring at his little brother.

“I asked if you’re taking any meds right now.” Sam gestures at the paper, looking a little apprehensive. Dean looks down at his hands and then back at Castiel, who has pulled out his phone. He doesn’t want to answer that. Sam seems to pick up on that. “Or you could just fill it out, I don’t have to--”

“Can’t,” Dean reminds him, gesturing at his broken right arm. He taps his foot a couple of times and looks back up at Sam. They don’t talk about it. They’ve been doing a great job not talking about it. Damn it. “No, Sam. I’m not on any medication right now.”

Sam seems to catch his disapproving gaze before it sets in and he nods, checking the box on the paper and going quiet again. Dean clears his throat, wishing he could cross his arms. After Benny died, with no one around to shove a pill and a glass of water in his hand, he just hasn’t been motivated to take his prescription. He knows that Sam and Charlie talk shit about it when he’s not around, but they don’t understand. The only one who ever understood was Benny. The name--or more likely the memories connected to it--leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Distraction is what he needs. He knows exactly where to find one, too. He looks back up at Castiel, who is watching Mark walk away with a nurse. Dean surveys the miserable look on his face as he tilts his head until Mark is out of sight. Damn, he’s pretty. Even with a frown on his face and something deeper behind his bright blue eyes, he’s simply pretty. There is no other way to put it.

“Dean, listen--”

“Sammy,” Dean interrupts. He really doesn’t want to get into this right now. “Go get me somethin’ to eat, wouldja?” Sam scowls at him, breathing out sharply.

“The cafeteria is literally on this floor, Dean. Your arm is screwed up, not your legs. Get something yourself. I’ve got to fill this out.” Dean clicks his tongue, whistling through his teeth and staring moodily at the floor.

“I don’t want hospital food, come on. There’s a McDonald’s like two miles back.”

“Dean, no. Are you losing your mind?”

“Come on, Sammy!”

“I told you. I have to fill this out!”

“I’ll do it.” Dean nearly jumps out of his skin and another strike of pain runs up his arm. He hisses, grabbing at it and looking up reproachfully at the owner of the shockingly deep voice that had interrupted his conversation with Sam. It’s Castiel.

“Hi.” Dean surprises himself with the greeting, and Sam raises his eyebrows at him.

“Hello,” Castiel responds, a small smile gracing his lips. The smile only grows when Dean can’t help but return it. “My apologies for startling you. I just overheard, and--”

“It’s alright,” Dean reassures him, doing his best to turn the charm up to an eleven. Sam vocalizes his disbelief this time, sighing sharply. “You heard the man, Sammy. He’s got me covered. I want a Big Mac. You want anything?” Dean points to Castiel, who shakes his head politely.

“No, thank you.” He waits for Sam to stand up and practically rip the credit card from Dean’s outstretched hand before he takes the vacant seat. Almost immediately, Castiel picks up the papers and clicks the pen a few times. “Do you currently wear glasses?” Dean stares at him, eyebrows raised. Castiel looks up, and it takes him a second to realize why Dean isn’t responding. “Right, obviously not.” He smiles, not even a little bit embarrassed, and looks back down at the paper. “Have you ever had surgery?”

“No,” Dean answers, sighing dramatically.

“What?” Castiel frowns at him, setting the papers down on his knees.

“This is stupid. I don’t even need to be here. It’s just a sore arm. My little brother made me come,” he explains. Castiel doesn’t look convinced. He sets the papers on the empty chair next to him and turns towards Dean completely.

“It doesn’t look ‘sore.’ It’s at an angle.” he grabs the papers again to the first page, squinting at something. He looks back up at him and sets the papers down for good. “Dean. I’m Castiel, by the way.” I know, Dean wants to say. Castiel seems to know that without Dean needing to say it. “But maybe you already knew that. You were staring at me before.”

“Yeah, whatever. Y’all were making a scene. What happened to your friend?” Dean changes the subject, half-worried that Castiel will call him out for it. He’s off-puttingly straight forward, and Dean wouldn’t put it past him to call out a stranger. Mercifully, he just raises a single eyebrow and moves on.

“Boyfriend. He got into a fight at a bar,” he sighs. Okay, so he likes boys. But he’s got a boyfriend. But Dean doesn’t care anyway. He doesn’t. This guy is just a pretty stranger, and thinking that he is anything more than that would be stupid. Dean makes an impressed noise from the back of his throat. Bar fights are much more his speed.

“Yeah? Was he defending your honor?” He grins, nudging Castiel with his good arm teasingly. “Somebody get a little too familiar?”

“No,” Castiel says. For a moment, Dean forgets that he asked a question. Castiel’s blue, blue eyes are distracting as hell and the way that they look unhesitatingly into his own makes Dean worried about what he might find there. He looks down.

“Then what was it?” He chances a look back up at Castiel, who has picked up his papers again and is pointing at a question with a pen. Dean glances at it and shakes his head. “No to that whole section.”

“Alright.” Castiel marks the papers and turns the page. “He… what about this?” Dean leans over his shoulder, pretending not to notice just how close they are. He reaches over and runs his finger down the list, answering each as he goes.

“No, yes, no, no.” Castiel looks up at him, and Dean refuses to make eye contact, staring down at the sheet. He can feel the ever-present intensity in the gaze, and this guy has a boyfriend, and Dean isn’t known for self-control. Castiel looks back down. “Thanks. Anyway, he got up to use the restroom and someone ran into him, spilled their drink on his shirt.”

“Bullshit, that’s all?” Castiel flips over the papers to find that he only has one page left.

“Yeah. He was drunk enough to throw the first punch but too drunk to make it count. The other guy knocked him out with one swing.” Castiel sounds bitter, and he glares down at the questions, the pen gripped tightly in his hand.

“Not to comment on somethin’ that’s none of my business, Cas--can I call you that?” He pauses, and Castiel nods shortly, a small smile on his lips. “Cas, your boyfriend sounds like a dick.” Cas looks at him steadily, something shifting behind his blue eyes that Dean can’t quite name. Then, he’s looking away again.

“Like you said, that is none of your business.” Dean recognizes the tense tone and knows he shouldn’t push the subject. “This one is a little personal,” Cas warns, glancing over the sheet. Dean nods, shifting to read over Castiel’s shoulder. “Do you have a history of issues with addiction to medication?” Dean shakes his head, and Castiel checks the ‘no’ box. “Have you ever been diagnosed with alcoholism?” Cas has the pen hovering over the ‘no’ box again, but when Dean doesn’t answer, he turns and looks up at him.

They’re far too close to be appropriate, Dean can feel Castiel’s breath on his face, but neither of them move back. Castiel’s eyes search his face for a moment and Dean feels himself go red. Mercifully, Cas doesn’t repeat the question or make him answer, he just checks the ‘yes’ box and moves down the list. Dean blows out a shaky breath and sits back in his chair, eyes falling shut.

“It was a while ago. My husband passed--”

“You don’t need to explain,” Cas says lightly. “It’s not my business.” Dean worries at his lip, and he can feel the weight of the blue-eyed gaze on him, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Eventually, he hears the rustle of paper and Castiel clears his throat. “Have you ever struggled with depression or feelings of hopelessness?” Dean picks at a loose string on the pockets of his jeans, his head tilted back. This is a lot of TMI to give a total stranger. A pretty stranger at that. He nods, and somehow he knows Cas sees it. He hears the scratch of the pen against paper and he braces himself for the next question. “Do you have a history of…” Cas trails off and clears his throat again. “Do you have a history of self-harm?”

“No,” Dean mutters, his eyes opening slowly. He blinks in the stale light of the Emergency Room and scratches his leg absentmindedly. Cas is holding the papers out to him and there’s a small smile on his face. A kind smile that makes his eyes crinkle up at the edges and warms Dean from the inside out. Dean takes the papers in his good hand and returns the smile.

If he didn’t know better, if Castiel wasn’t here with his boyfriend, Dean would say that there is definitely a spark here. The air in the room is a little thinner than before, and they’re definitely too close now. Far too close. And Cas isn’t looking at his eyes anymore, because his blue gaze has dropped to Dean’s lips. He can’t help it when they curl into a smile.

Cas seems to realize what he’s doing and remembers himself, straightening his back and snapping his gaze up to Dean’s. Dean raises an eyebrow, and he can feel the charm working its way back into his system. He’s falling into what Sam refers to as ‘bar Dean,’ someone he hasn’t been since Benny. He feels the smile growing lazily, without much effort on his part, and he blinks slowly at Cas. Cas’s face scrunches up and he lets out a small laugh. 

“What?” Dean drops the act, feeling defensive.

“What was that?” Cas laughs, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Dean doesn’t know what to say, instead, he gives in to the laugh that is rising in his own throat. They sit there for a while, laughing together. They draw some attention to themselves from the other people in the room, but they don’t care. In fact, Dean has completely forgotten that there are other people around at all. There’s no telling how long they would’ve sat there, slapping their knees and gasping for breath, because Sam appears in front of them, looking thoroughly nonplussed. Dean wipes at his eyes and takes a few steadying breaths, a couple of final chuckles forcing their way out of him as he looks at his little brother.

“Heya Sammy,” he manages, grinning up at him. Sam stares at them, raising a single hand in a wave and shoving the food bag towards Dean. Cas takes it for him, earning another confused look from Sam, and Dean ignores him. Sam sits down on his other side, pulling the papers from Dean’s hand and looking through them.

“I’m going to run this up to the nurse,” Sam tells them, squinting his eyes suspiciously as Dean nods, distracted by something Cas is saying under his breath. He stomps away without being noticed.

“--and fries,” Cas finishes, pushing the contents aside as he lists them. Dean makes a satisfied noise and nods. “Can you eat the burger with one hand?” That is a good question. He considers the burger as Cas holds it up. Eating with one hand is no different than eating while driving, right?

“Yeah, as long as you’ll unwrap it for me as I go.” Cas nods, pulling back the paper and handing it to Dean. Dean grabs it and takes a grateful, albeit messy, bite. He makes a noise of approval and goes for another bite almost before he has swallowed.

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” Cas chides him. He rolls his eyes, licking his lips and handing the burger back to him so he can peel more of the wrapper back.

“Mnf gud mmnf fnt,” Dean says around the mouthful. 

“Pardon?”

Dean swallows with a little difficulty and grins bashfully. “It’s good that I'm in a hospital, then.” Cas tsks disapprovingly and hands him the burger again. Dean dives back in, feeling as though he hasn’t eaten in days. He pulls back to catch his breath and nods happily at Castiel’s exasperated smile.

“You have food all over your face, Dean.” Before he can use his sleeve to wipe it off, Cas has grabbed a napkin from the bag and is wiping at his cheek as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. Dean stares at him, his mouth half open and his food forgotten. Cas hesitates, the napkin hovering over Dean’s face, and another moment passes that makes it so hard to not kiss him.

He can’t be the only one thinking it, because Castiel just licked his lips absentmindedly. Dean breathes out evenly, his eyes slipping to said lips without his permission. Then, because God must have some agenda against him, Castiel’s phone rings loudly.

The spell breaks and Cas is muttering something about his sister. Before Dean can respond, he’s standing up and answering the call.

“Hannah, hey,” Cas says, pacing back and forth in front of Dean, the napkin still clutched in his hand. Dean sighs, taking another bite of his burger. They had definitely been about to kiss, he’s experienced enough to recognize the vibe when it’s right in front of him. “I’m not sure. He’s been in there forever now, so I think he might be getting stitches.”

Dean shifts moodily, unable to eat anymore without taking a bite of the wrapper. He keeps forgetting that Cas is already spoken for, and then something happens to remind him. Sam steps around Cas to sit back down and says something, but Dean is too busy trying to listen to what Cas is saying. He shushes his little brother. 

“...total asshole. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Cas pauses, clearly listening to something being said on the other side of the line. “No, he isn’t always like this. Hannah—no. You don’t know him.”

Dean can’t help it, he lets out a cynical bark of a laugh. Castiel hears him. He turns on him, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. Dean raises his eyebrows, and Cas glares at him for a moment more before continuing to pace.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ve got to go, Han. Tell mom and Gabe I say hi.” He hangs up the phone and turns on his heel without looking at Dean. He returns to where he had been sitting with Mark and grabs his coat. Then, with not so much as a glance in Dean’s direction, he’s walking by his chair.

“Cas!” Dean calls after him, twisting in his chair and wincing when his arm protests. Cas comes to a stop in front of the automatic doors, which are standing open, waiting for him to go through. He turns around and holds up his arms, very clearly asking ‘what?’ “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting some air.” He goes to leave again, and Dean calls his name, again.

“Cas—” Cas turns on him, stepping away from the door and drawing the attention of the nurse at the front desk, as well as the other people in the waiting room. 

“Don’t call me that. You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about my life. You don’t get to call my boyfriend a dick or listen in on my phone calls or call me a nickname. You don’t get to have any opinions about my life. You don’t know me.” With that, Cas storms back towards the doors, making a frustrated noise when he sees that they’ve started to close.

Nobody in the room talks. Even the nurse, who had been about to read out another name, is frozen in place. Dean swallows thickly and sinks down in his chair, glaring at anyone who is rude enough to be openly staring at him. The general rustle and hum of the room returns slowly, and Sam clears his throat awkwardly.

“Uh--what was that?” Dean ignores him, tossing his burger back in the bag, not hungry anymore. They’d been having a nice time, and he ruined it. What the hell was he thinking telling a complete stranger what he thought about his relationship? Stupid. “Dean, come on man,” Sam presses. God, he’s annoying. Dean brushes him off, but he sighs sharply and Dean caves.

“It was nothin’. His boyfriends a dick and I stepped over the line by telling him that.” He shrugs, as though he couldn’t care less about the look on Castiel’s face as he walked out the door. Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t. “He got his panties in a twist about it, I guess.”

He waits for Castiel to return. He doesn’t. He watches the door, willing it to open. It doesn’t. Sammy falls asleep, his head tipped back and his mouth opens. Dean doesn’t even have enough energy to screw with him. When the nurse finally looks down at her paper and calls his name, Cas has not come back. He stands up, careful to keep his arm locked in place, and kicks his brother’s shoe. Sam jerks awake, his arm coming up defensively. When he looks up at Dean with a very annoyed glare, Dean makes a face at him.

“I’m going to get this thing straightened out,” he tells him. “Don’t talk to strangers. Also,” he adds, as though it’s an afterthought, “if that guy comes back, give him my number.” Sam rubs at his eyes and sits up in his seat.

“Dean, are you sure that’s a good idea? He didn’t seem like your biggest fan--”

“Just do it, Sam.” He doesn’t give him a chance to say no. He gives the door one last pleading look, but it remains stubbornly shut. Maybe Castiel took off. But he wouldn’t totally abandon his boyfriend like that, not after how fiercely he defended him from both Dean and his sister. He just doesn’t want to see Dean, it seems. Maybe he’s waiting just on the other side until he’s sure Dean is long gone. Either way, he doesn’t appear before Dean disappears through the doors, following the nurse down the never-ending hallways.

When he returns to the waiting room, his sprained arm in a sling and in a significantly worse mood, Cas is not waiting for him. Sammy, however, is awake and scrolling through his phone. Dean walks over to him gingerly, knocking the phone from his hand with his good arm when Sam doesn’t look up at him.

“Hey! Dude,” Sam complains, gesturing at where his phone is laying on the ground.

“Tough shit,” Dean mutters, not feeling bad at all. All he cares about is getting home, getting in bed, and pretending he never met a very pretty man with very blue eyes.

“I gave the guy your number,” Sam tells him as they drive home, breaking the silence and reading Dean’s glum thoughts. “I wouldn’t wait on him, though. He wasn’t very happy when I started talking to him. He just sat there and stared straight ahead until his buddy got back. It was kind of creepy, actually. I don’t think you two would work out anyways.” Dean makes a noncommittal noise and nods, staring out the window. Sam gets the message, turning up the radio and finishing the rest of the drive in silence.

Dean doesn’t eat when they get home, just pops a pain killer, grabs a beer, and attempts to retreat to his room. On his way there, however, Sam catches up to him and pulls the drink from his grasp, replacing it with a Diet Coke and disappearing as quickly as he came. Dean doesn’t have the energy to argue with him today. 

When he gets into his room and sets the drink down, he struggles with his phone in his pocket until it finally pops free. He hasn’t had the heart to look at it until now, and any hope he was fostering that Castiel would’ve texted him is squashed. He has one notification, and it’s from his cousin, Garth. He ignores the text and tosses the phone on the bedside table, but not before turning on his ringer. Just in case.

He flops on top of the covers, wincing when his arm bumps his hip bone and runs his hand over the comforter until he finds his walkman and headphones. Led Zeppelin pours into his ears until he slips into a half state of consciousness. Not quite asleep, but definitely not awake either. He is just starting to drift into a real sleep when the sound of his phone buzzing is just audible over the music. He jerks awake, knocking the headphones off of his ears blearily. By the time his fumbling hand picks up his phone, it has stopped buzzing and he has two notifications. One missed call--and one voicemail--from a random number. The area code is from Kansas. He unlocks his phone and lifts it to his ear. For the first few seconds, the voicemail is silent.

Dean swings his legs over the edge of the bed, holds the phone between his cheek and his neck, and rubs at his eyes, and then a deep voice is coming to life from his phone.

“Hello, Dean. This is Castiel. We met at the hospital. I just want to apologize for snapping at you before. I was stretched pretty thin, and I was stressed out. That doesn’t make it alright to yell at someone, I know that…” He fades away, and Dean’s insides glow. Cas called. He really, actually called. He grabs the phone again. “I guess I’m just touchy about my relationship. My boyfriend...I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry, this is so stupid. Just ignore this. Okay. Okay. Goodbye. Sorry.” The phone beeps to signal the end of the voicemail. Dean laughs, relief flooding through him.

It’s ridiculous, really, to be this excited that a stranger called him. But he can’t help it. His whole life has been a series of people not calling. His dad never came home. His mom got sick of him and left too. Benny--well, the only person who has ever stuck around is Sammy. And here is this complete stranger, calling him to apologize. Dean is still chuckling as he types the number into his phone and listens to the ringing. It rings. And it rings. And it rings. And just as Dean’s heart begins to sink, and he thinks that Cas has thought better of it and decided to let it ring out, he answers.

“Hello?” Dean can’t take sitting still anymore. He hops to his feet and begins to pace around the room.

“Cas. Hey.” He rubs at the back of his neck. There’s a moment of awkward silence, and that’s when Dean realizes that he doesn’t have anything to say. He had been so focused on getting Cas on the phone, he’d never thought of what to talk to him about once it happened. “What’s up?”

“You called me.” Dean would hang up the phone out of embarrassment if Cas didn’t have that patiently amused tone in his voice. But he does. Dean can almost see him, one eyebrow quirked and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Dean?” Cas sounds concerned now. Dean almost hits himself upside the head. He hasn’t said anything! He’s been walking around in circles and thinking about the way Castiel’s lips look when he smiles and not saying anything! Like an idiot.

“I wanted to apologize too,” he blurts out. Which...no. He doesn’t feel sorry about what he said at all because it was the truth.

“Oh,” Cas says simply. Dean freezes in place, unsure of whether Cas is going to tell him there’s no need. He doesn’t.

“Yeah.” His mind has gone blank. If there is a god up there, he’s not doing Dean any favors today. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Sweet Jesus. Maybe if he makes a crackling noise with his mouth he can hang up and pretend they lost signal. Cas clears his throat, waiting patiently. Dean would like, very much, to curl up in a dark hole. 

“This is easily one of the worst apologies I’ve ever heard in my life,” Castiel informs him. Dean laughs, the anxious knot in his stomach loosening slightly at the easiness in Castiel’s voice. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to overstep. We were doing some pretty serious sharing for a while there, anyway. It got hard to remember that we’re just strangers.” Ouch.

“I wouldn’t say strangers,” Dean objects, sitting back down on the edge of his bed.

“No?”

“No. I think we earned the title of friends. We’ve even had our first big fight.”

“Hm. Close acquaintances, then,” Cas compromises. Dean sits in stubborn silence for a moment before forgetting that Cas can’t see him and shrugging.

“Alright, fine. You’re my close acquaintance who knows about my past traumas and addictions. It makes sense.” Dean has never felt prouder of himself in his life than in the moment that Cas chuckles at his words. He’s just about to use the moment to be brave and say something stupid, but Cas is talking again, just not to him.

“I’m on the phone,” Dean hears him say loudly, as though talking to someone in a different room. “Yeah! I’ll come in in a few! Sorry,” he mutters, and it’s clearly aimed at Dean. He doesn’t have time to say that it’s okay, because Cas is shouting again. “It’s nobody! Just--yeah. Love you too!”

Dean’s insides deflate. The boyfriend. Mark. The asshole boyfriend who got into a bar fight tonight. Who yelled at Cas for trying to help. And Dean is nobody. A stranger. 

“How’s your boyfriend’s face?” He asks, hoping his misery doesn’t shine through in his tone.

“Very puffy,” Cas replies. If he can hear a change in Dean he doesn’t mention it, but the air is definitely thicker than it had been. “I should go. Thank you for… attempting to apologize. Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, Cas.”

Neither of them hangs up at first. After a moment of weighted silence, Dean clears his throat. A little hope makes its way back into his wary heart.

“Cas?”

“Mhm?” This is his chance. He has to say something. Anything. Get a foot in the door, at least. 

“Do you want to maybe go out for a bite sometime?” He holds his breath, his whole body tense, braced for an answer that doesn’t come. For a moment, Dean wonders if Cas hung up. He glances at his screen, and it says the call is active, so he brings it back to his face. This is torture. Total torture. Why is he just sitting there? Is he considering it? Or just trying to think of the easiest way to let Dean down? 

“As friends,” Cas says finally. Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes, even though Cas wouldn’t see him if he did. If he has to be a friend, he’ll be a friend. It’s better than being nobody.

“As close acquaintances,” Dean corrects him. Cas laughs again, and Dean closes his eyes, savoring the moment. Pretending he’s there next to him.

“Sure. I’d love to go out for a ‘bite’ sometime. But I really do need to go. Goodnight, Dean.”

“See ya, Cas.” This time, Cas really does hang up. Dean can’t help the smile on his face as he falls backward onto the bed. He barely even curses at the sharp pain in his arm. He stares at his ceiling, feeling like a teenager after his first kiss.

He tries not to feel ridiculous about the fact that he just got friend-zoned and he’s acting like a sixteen-year-old who just got smooched. He grins at the ceiling until his phone dings and he grabs at it. He blinks at the extra light until he can read the notification clearly.

Maybe: Castiel  
Hello Dean. This is Castiel again. Was thinking we could do next Thursday night around 7?

Dean bites his lip to stop the smile on his face from growing too big, even though no one can see him. The first thing he does is fix the contact.

To: Cas  
sounds good. ive got a place in mind. will pick u up.

Cas responds with his address and Dean plugs his phone in, glancing at the clock. It’s three in the morning. He rubs at his face and heads into the bathroom. He’s pretty clumsy with only one arm, but he manages to wash his face and change into pajama pants without causing any problems for himself.

He steps in on Sam’s room on his way back to his room.

“Sammy, you up?” he calls through the door, knocking a couple of times. There’s no response. He cracks the door open and peeks inside. The TV is on and some old western lights up the room. Sam is sleeping on his back. Dean is about to close the door and back out, but then he sees Sam’s phone on the bed next to him. It’s not plugged in. Dean sighs, slipping into the room and grabbing the phone to plug it in. He doesn’t mean to look at the notification, but it lights up as he plugs it into the wall.

Eileen  
LOL. Goodnight.

He smiles, looking from the screen to his sleeping brother. Sam looks younger when he sleeps, his hair swept across his face. The permanent line between his brow when he’s awake is smoothed, and he looks peaceful. Dean hovers for another moment, looking at how his brother could’ve been. If he had done a better job looking after him. At least things seem to be taking off between him and Eileen. Dean likes her. He knows that Sam likes her a lot too. 

“Way to go, Sammy,” he mutters. He glances around the room, the older brother in him searching for anything else that might need fixing. Sam is annoyingly organized, his boots sitting in the corner by the door. His jacket is hanging up on the door of his closet, and the only thing out of place is a sock. Dean kicks it under the bed, flicks the TV off, and creeps back out of the room.

He walks by the kitchen too, and he can see the beer that Sam had snagged from him sitting on the table. He stares at it, chewing on his lip. He could grab it. Nobody would know. It’s just a beer, it barely even counts as alcohol at this point. He wouldn’t even get buzzed from just one. His hand closes around the neck of the bottle before he has even realized that he stepped into the room. It’s still cold.

The nail of his thumb secures its spot under the cap. If he presses up at the right angle, with just enough pressure, it will pop off. He stares at it. Marvels at how it feels both foreign and all too familiar in his hand. He’s had a couple since his recovery, one wouldn’t hurt. 

“No,” he whispers to himself. His thumb doesn’t listen. It stays put, and he sees the cap begin to tilt up under the pressure. “No.” He turns to the fridge and sets the bottle down before slamming it shut. He presses against it, as though the tighter the door is shut, the farther he will be from the temptation. He rests his forehead against the cold surface of the fridge and closes his eyes. Why is this still so hard?

It’s been over a year since Benny died. Over a year since his first relapse. He takes a shaky breath and begins the walk back to his room.

He glances at his phone before laying back down. No new notifications. 


End file.
